


storm

by justdoityoufucker



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Backstory, M/M, Mid-Jak 3 Setting, Pre-Relationship, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdoityoufucker/pseuds/justdoityoufucker
Summary: “We’d best camp here until the sandstorm is over,” Sig said, tossing the bag of artifacts to Jak from the Gila Stomper. “Hope you like caves.”





	storm

The sky was red, and the ride Jak had taken out to help Sig with collecting artifacts in the vast sands of the waste was broken. A sandstorm was kicking up as they pulled in into the shadow of the dead volcano, to a natural cave formed in the rock that would provide them cover from the wind of the storm, and hopefully the most of the sand.

“We’d best camp here until the sandstorm is over,” Sig said, tossing the bag of artifacts to Jak from the Gila Stomper. “Hope you like caves.”

“Better than some other options,” Jak replied with a grimace. At least the cave was actually sheltered, even if it was freezing. He dug the few artifacts in the Sand Shark out, and hooked up the coupling to the Gila Stomper’s hitch. Sig had parked the vehicle well enough under the overhang that it wouldn’t get buried.

Then it was just--well, waiting. The sandstorms in the Wasteland could last for hours or days; Jak feverishly hoped it was the former. They both still had full canteens, but it was not as if they had planned to be out for a long time. The lizard jerky and hardtack he had packed in his bag would only last so long.

Sig's calm head did wonders for him, though, especially since Daxter was sitting that particular mission to the wastes out. As soon as his best friend had heard that they'd be going with Sig, he'd left Jak in the older man's hands to, to quote, "see what kind of mischief a real man could get into" in Spargus. Jak just hoped they wouldn't return to Daxter skinned and eaten.

It was strange, though, to be without Daxter. Something they both needed to get used to, Jak knew, but still. Strange.

He made sure the manual brakes were on both of the buggies, then headed back into the cave as the wind picked up again.

Sig had kindled a tiny fire, and was slowly adding dried sticks he'd found somewhere to the flame. "Wastelanders try to keep these caves stocked for when something like this happens," Sig says to Jak's interested look, hitching a thumb back at the pile of wood that had been covered with a large piece of mottled grey fabric that made it look as if it was part of the cave wall. "Looks like the food supplies have been used up, though."

"You think it'll last long?" Jak asked, making himself as comfortable as he could be on the sandy stones of the floor. Sig tossed the last stick he had in the fire, headed back to the pile to get some larger branches.

"Not likely; the sky looked like rain before this blew in," Sig tossed over some of the branches for Jak to break into smaller pieces. "But rain will make it too difficult to ride back pulling a buggy. We'll be stuck here until it's dried a bit."

Jak nodded, cracking the branches with ease and slowly adding a couple to the fire. It chased away the harsh chill of the cave as it grew, until finally it was a comfortable temperature.

Once the fire could be left alone, Jak pulled out his gun and, in a mirror of what Sig had started doing minutes earlier, broke it apart to clean it. They both worked in comfortable silence, well enough used to each other's companionship that the prospect of sitting in the cave for hours didn't seem too daunting.

Jak worked methodically, pulling each piece off his gun, blowing out sand or grit, and wiping them down. His first gun had been confiscated before his exile to the Wasteland, but the one he'd been given in the arena worked better and felt better, somehow. It was strange; even after years living with Samos, and then years in Haven, Spargus and the Wasteland felt more like home than either of those places. For the first time, Jak felt as if he belonged with the people who lived around him, who cared in extremely subtle ways.

And Sig--Sig was one of those people. Jak had always liked him, ever since their first hunt for Krew, and such close contact with him in Spargus had evolved that liking to something a little more passionate.

Jak didn't make it a habit to jack off while thinking of people he considered friends, but Sig had been the exception for an embarrassingly long time. He had enough control of himself to keep that removed from day to day life, but, hell, even Dax could tell he had something for Sig, and Dax was probably the most oblivious person or animal that Jak had ever met.

Yeah, he loved his best friend with all his heart, but Daxter could be kind of dumb.

He slowed his breathing, a technique he'd found made dark eco affect him less, and carefully began oiling his gun, fitting the pieces back together with a careful precision. While Sig had modified his morph gun to be a super-powered Peacemaker, Jak liked the ability to change through mods depending on the situation. The downside was the gun got jammed more frequently, but in Jak's mind the trade-off was more than worth it.

He was so engrossed that by the time he finished, stretched, and looked across the fire at Sig, the other man's gun had already been placed next to him, and he'd unstrapped his shoulder guards. In fact, he was looking at Jak with something of a bemused smile on his face.

"What?" Jak asked, feeling spooked.

"I don't think I've seen anyone as focused on a gun other than Damas," the other man said, pulling a packet of lizard jerky out, opening it.

"Damas?" Jak ran his fingers absently over his gun. Sig did seem like he knew the king of Spargus, but it seemed like a strange relationship. Especially considering their shared experience in the arena.

"He doesn't get out on hunts or artifact runs anymore, but he used to. Before Spargus grew so large, and the marauders became such a threat. We did a lot of runs together," his voice had a hint of something like wistfulness for those days passed by, "and he was meticulous, but also a hot-headed daredevil like you and 'Orange Lightning'."

Jak’s lips tugged up at that. He couldn’t really imagine Damas being hot-headed; the man he knew was almost an icicle, proud when the situation warranted but keeping a tight lid on any and all emotion. “You’ve known him for a long time?”

“Since this place became home,” Sig gestured around them. The Wasteland; he knew from talking with Ashelin and the former Baron’s ravings that Damas had been king of Haven and had been ousted by the former Baron, but he didn’t know much more than that.

“How did that happen?” he asked, curiosity piqued. If anyone knew, it would be Sig.

“Good thing we’re stuck in here, because that’s a long story,” Sig tossed the jerky over to Jak, a clear sign for him to take some, and began.

“Haven’s had problem with metalheads since the days of its founder, Mar, but you probably already know that,” Jak nodded, “Well, by the time Damas took over as ruler, the metalhead threat had grown because the previous king had done little to combat them. In addition, deeper mining was required to extract the eco needed to keep the city running, and that might have meant conscription if the hands needed didn’t volunteer.

“It wasn’t an immediate threat, as Damas wanted to first strengthen the defenses and launch a counter-attack on the metalheads. Not many were unhappy with his rule, but there were some,” the look on Sig’s face showed how he felt about those people, “including the late Baron Praxis. He was something of their ringleader, and as part of Damas’s council, he had more information. He caught wind of the potential need for mining conscription, and managed to twist it so it pissed off half the citizens. Of course, they only realized they’d been had once Damas was gone, but at the time their concerns seemed legitimate.”

Sig sighed, shook his head, “Many who agreed with Damas ended up here, and Haven--well, you know what happened there. Only been about six years.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, until the wind picked up, whistling in through the cave. Then the rumbling of thunder, loud and tumultuous.

“Looks like the sand is over,” Sig said, looking up from the fire.

Curious again, Jak jumped up, setting his gun carefully down, and went to peer out of the entrance of the cave. The sky, which had been red just an hour or so before, was nearly black with clouds. Lightning occasionally flashed from the depths of the clouds, accompanied by more sonorous rolls of thunder. 

“Does it always rain like this?” Jak asked, honestly impressed as the downpour slowly became visible. Haven and Sandover had mostly just drizzled, so seeing the sky actually open and dump rain onto the land was impressive.

“More or less. You ain’t seen rain before?” Sig asked good-naturedly, standing and walking to look out as well.

Jak rolled his eyes, but shook his head, “Hasn’t rained since we got here.”

The rain looked as if it literally was coming down in sheets, thick layers of it falling and turning the sand outside of the cave into a slurry. The rocky lip encircling the cave kept the water out, for the most part, but standing there did mean they got sprayed with a fine mist. Despite the chill of the night, it was refreshing and, more importantly, took Jak’s mind off the fact that Sig was standing close behind him.

“It’ll blow over soon enough; rain never lasts long here,” Sig said after a few minutes. He clapped Jak on the shoulder, his hand lingering there, “but that much water’ll take some time to dry up enough. Might as well try and get some rest while we can.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Jak had a difficult enough time when he had a bed in relative safety, but a cave in the middle of the Wasteland was neither of those things. He settled for just resting against one of the walls of the cave, his arms wrapped around his bent knees.

Silence reigned, but it was cut by the sounds of the rain, the crackling of the fire. They’d ended up closer together, but neither moved. The air was more comfortable after talking, and with the sound of the rain and fire it lent the space to a relaxed, calm mood. But Jak felt unable to relax; his stomach felt wound up, tight like a spring.

Maybe it was the long hours spent in the sun, but a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Erol suggested that it was the dark eco. He squeezed his knees tighter, tamping down on that voice. While the dark ecowas a problem and had been a problem since his time in the Baron and Erol’s ‘care’, he had thought that with practice controlling it, it would affect him less. He had been wrong. Even Onin and Samos had been unable to offer any help when he had still been in Haven.

Deep breaths. He’d been through situations worse than this unaffected, he’d get through this unaffected.

A large hand landed on his shoulder, and he jumped. It was embarrassing enough that he had been caught up in his thoughts to an extent that Sig could do that without him noticing, but to  _ jump _ ? Jak sent a wide-eyed expression the other man’s way.

Sig held his hands up as though surrendering, “Wondering why you were trying to brew yourself a headache, cherries.”

Jak was loathe to share. Sig--he did know about the Dark Eco, but he wasn’t directly involved and Jak still didn’t feel as though they knew each other well enough for him to share something so...strange.

“It’s the dark eco,” the words came tumbling out before he could stop them.

The only change in Sig’s expression was his eyes creasing. Jak didn’t want to think so, but it looked like he was worried. “What the Baron did to you?” he asked, seating himself against the wall next to Jak, their arms nearly bumping. Jak’s suspicion was clear on his face, judging by what came out of Sig’s mouth next. “I got to talking to the sage--Samos--before I returned here. He mentioned something about that.”

Trust Samos to keep a secret, Jak thought darkly. “Yeah,” he said, offering no further explanation. He’d already said too much, in his mind.

“Well,” Sig slung an arm over his shoulders, his presence warm and grounding, “I’m here if you need any help, chili pepper.”

Jak couldn’t help it; he leaned into Sig, cherishing the touch of his body against that of someone else. Embarrassing enough to flush his ears and cheeks, but Sig didn’t say anything. If anything changed, it was that his arm actually tightened. Dark eco moved to the backburner of Jak’s mind, his focus moved to the man sitting next to him. “Thanks,” he said, finally relaxing, feeling safe.

“Anytime,” Sig said, his chin nuzzling--intentionally or not--against Jak’s short, fluffy hair. “Anytime.”

  
  



End file.
